ParadoxThe Ways We Lie
by Kimi-chan is a cat witch
Summary: 1 Girl, Multiple Murders, 1 Villain, 1 kidnapping/prison break, 1 team of assassins. Oh Jeez, here we go.   Rated T for blood, violence, mentions of rape, and torture scenes.


**(A/N) Well-I've finally taken the time to put down drawing for an hour or so and write this. *Sigh* I think I needed it too…my drawing was kind of going downhill ^.^;;; oh well. Here you go.**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Twilight. I wouldn't be writing this thing. I would be laughing and gloating instead. **

"I'm going to ask you one more time…why did you kill your family?"

"Did they hurt you?"

"Did they make you angry?"

The police officer leaned over the desk in his office to invade his suspects' personal space, as if it would make her answer faster. The girl crossed her arms and refused to even look up from the swirl on the table she had been staring at for the past half hour.

"Still not talking huh?" said the officer. The girl glared up at him defiantly, waited a moment, then spat in his face.

"Urgh! Stupid little bitch!" he wiped his face and stormed from the room. Shouting and yelling could be heard through the thin wooden door. The officer was annoying her with his stream of constant questions. She didn't answer a single one of them.

Not like he would believe her anyway.

Better prison than an asylum with needles, doctors, and actual crazy people. And with the position she had gotten herself into it was either one or the other.

"Well maybe a few hours in a cell will change her mind." Her eyes widened, as the arguing started up again.

A few minutes later the cop walked back into the room, undid the handcuffs that were keeping her chained to the table, and roughly pulled her to her feet. He led her down the brightly lit hallway, through the front doors of the station, and outside in the direction of what she could only assume was his cruiser.

"Where are you taking me?" There was no answer. "Oh, so you want to play that game? Very mature, certainly makes me feel safer knowing your on watch." She commented.

He still said nothing, only secured her handcuffs around the metal bar that ran across the back seat. But she still had the satisfaction of seeing the veins in his neck bulge whenever she would open her mouth.

The prison was only a few minutes away. The trees zipped by in a blur. Though she would never admit it-especially to that dumb cop-she was scared, terrified even. Never in her life would she have seen herself going to prison. Then again-her normal life ended two weeks ago.

He stopped in front of the building, and dragged her out. They walked up to the front desk and the officer started talking to the woman behind the window. She zoned them out, studying every single detail of the place-how many guards there were and where-how many turns she could see from her angle-was it possible to reach the set of keys hanging behind the receptionist-how long it would take to kick the cop in the nuts and make a run for it.

A pudgy face placing itself directly in front of hers startled her out of her survival mode. She yelped.

"Well, well, well…what do we have here?" the man circled her, almost as if he were sizing her up, seeing what she would be capable of. Mr. jackass finally turned around.

"Wanted for the murder of four persons, this one is." The pudgy man grinned sadistically. The girl shivered involuntarily. This only widened his smile-if you could even call it that.

"I'll take her off your hands now officer; I am the warden after all." She was almost certain he added that last bit to intimidate her; it worked. The cop shrugged and walked off to who knows where. Leaving her alone with the warden. Suddenly he turned on his heels.

"Follow me." She did. The girl got the feeling that those big, meaty hands of his were not against the idea of throttling her if she stepped out of line.

Through the security the two went turning and weaving through random halls til' she was sure the prison was in fact a maze in disguise, but perhaps it was built like that on purpose. Only someone that roamed the halls freely and often could find their way around.

'_I thought prisons were supposed to be typically dark and damp.' _The girl thought as some of the florescent lights blinked in and out. The warden mistook her thoughtful expression for doubt. He grinned maliciously, exposing a set of slightly yellowed, large teeth-probably from drinking too much coffee.

"You're going to be spending the rest of the night with a very _special _prisoner. Ever heard of Mick Flanner?"

She shook her head. Grinning again he continued.

"Michael 'Mick' Flanner is wanted in seventeen states for a number of rape, burglaries, murders, organ theft, and even cannibalism." Her eyes widened.

"And you're going to be spending the night with him-don't worry your perfectly safe. We have him on a twenty-four seven watch schedule. There are two armed guards posted outside the room at the entrance. Mick is chained into a metal chair. He can't move his head two inches without someone pointing a gun to his throat." She shivered, it sounded like something from a horror movie.

'_What kind of prison is this?' _she wondered almost franticly.

They diverted from the main hallway and down two others. The girl realized that the bars on the cells had changed to solid steel doors.

Finally they reached the one at the end. The door read-

Cell # 84

Psychiatric Ward

Class of Criminal: Highly Dangerous

'_Of course-stick me in with a mental patient, jeez first the cop now this jackass, do I have terrible luck or what?'_

"Isn't the door supposed to have his name on it or something?" The warden turned to her.

"He's not going to be alive long enough for it to be worth putting his name on it."

"What do you mean?"

"He's gettin' the chair next week." _Oh_. She didn't ask any more questions after that. The warden went up to the sentry placed at the door.

"Open the door if you please." The guard looked at him.

"State your purpose please."

"Mickey here's gettin' a roommate." The guard's eyebrows shot up and he glanced at the meek looking girl behind him.

"Sir?"

"Just open the door."

"I don't think you're authorized to-"

"Open the damn door!" The guard shot up, startled. Without a word he began undoing the various locks that were keeping the door shut.

Captain Evil shoved her into the room. "And here's your home away from home, enjoy." He said sarcastically before shoving her onto the floor, turning around, and leaving the guards to lock her in the tiny room.

It was white and padded, like the kind of room someone in a straight jacket would be in. There was a mattress, on the floor with a dirty striped blanket on it, and a pot that she could only assume was either for flowers or it was the nearest restroom. She guessed it was most likely the second. An empty food tray was lying in one corner, and an empty metal chair sat in the middle of the room. But that was it. No windows, no vents, nothing. The only access for air was through the tiny-bar covered-hole on the door. But most importantly-she was alone.

Her heart thumped audibly in her chest, as an urge to empty her stomach came over her. She fought it down, and instead looked around her cell. There was indeed no one in here but her. Didn't the warden say that she would have a roommate?

"Um, excuse me, Mr. Guard sir?" There was a slight pause.

"What is it?"

"Where's my cellmate? Is he out in the common area or something?" The silence was deafening.

"What are you talking about?"

"The warden said I was going to stay with someone else-"

"The prisoner is chained in the middle of the room." She glanced at the empty chair.

"No he's not." Another silence- this one filled with anxiety though.

"Are you absolutely sure." A new voice asked-slightly panicked. It was probably the other guard.

"Yeah- the only thing in here is a mattress, a pot, a tray of uneaten food, and an empty chair." She heard a scuffling sound and locks turning and clicking.

The metal door banged open before she had the chance to back away. The edge of the door clipped her shoulder and knocked her head against the armrest of the steel chair. Pain exploded from the back of her head.

She squeezed her eyes shut to try and dissolve some of the tension; good thing she did. A feeble cry and thumping were heard directly before a crunching and snapping sound. A warm spray showered over her.

Once again-a silence fell upon the room. She desperately fought the feeling to run, and instead concentrated on opening her eyes. The first thing she noticed was that the guards were gone. The next thing she noticed was that warm stuff that sprayed over her was _blood_. And it _wasn't_ hers. Her breathing came quick as she saw the crimson liquid staining everything on the north side of the room. It stood in stark contrast to the white walls.

She pushed herself off the floor, and quickly glanced around the room for any sign of life. No dice; there was, however a gun lying perfectly still on the floor...in front of a wide open door. She was about to take a step towards it, but stopped-it was too easy, too simple. Either her luck had changed, or something was daring her to run-taunting her. Nothing in life was handed to you on a silver platter-and she could only assume prison breaks were no different.

It was then she heard the breathing.

At first it was quiet-barely audible, and then it grew faster, louder- until it sounded similar to the panting of a dog. She tensed.

'_Please don't be on the ceiling, please don't be on the ceiling, please don't be on the ceiling.' _she chanted to herself as she raised her head. Of course it was on the ceiling.

For a moment she didn't know how to react. Should she run? Should she scream? Should she pee herself? All three seemed doable, but she opted to stay still until he made the first move. Michael 'Mick' Flanner did nothing, just stared at her. Three long-endless minutes passed before he moved. The second his hand twitched, she reacted, bolting from the room screaming like a mad woman.

Mistake.

She didn't make it eight feet before he body slammed her to the ground. She fought desperately, as he yanked her upright, kicking and biting, in the end though she just ended up hurting herself more than him.

"Stop." He commanded. And stop she did. Frozen in a fit of terror, her situation finally came crashing down around her. It seemed that since he proved that he could speak, he proved he was intelligent. Not just a wild animal killing mindlessly. Shaggy black hair fell into his purple eyes; he was handsome, in a sort of wild-dangerous-stay away from me kind of way. He seemed to study her for a moment.

"Age." She blanched.

"What?"

"State your age."

"Why should I-" His hand flew to her throat, squeezing tightly. She gasped as he lifted her off the ground.

"Let's try this once more. _Age._"

"F-four-teen." He loosened his grip slightly, then smiled.

"Good, now, ancestry."

"White." Mick threw back his head and cackled.

"I asked your ancestry, not your race." She thought a moment.

"Finish and Puerto Rican."

"Hmmm. Really?" Mick looked mildly interested.

"Odd combination, but anyhow, gender." An alarm sounded somewhere in the distance, followed by screaming and guns being fired off; but Mick seemed to ignore it.

"Female." It seemed somewhat odd that he had to ask, but she quickly pushed away any thought of questioning him.

"Diseases?"

"I have celiac."

"That it?" She nodded.

"How about Blood type?" She gulped.

"O." His eyes widened.

"Not exactly what we were looking for, but it's the closest we've come so far. You'll do nicely I believe." The statement sounded ominous and foreboding on its own, but along with the fact that he was wanted for organ theft and cannibalism, didn't exactly make her feel comfortable with him asking her blood type.

"One last question, name-full name if you please." The way he was being so polite was odd. Almost as if he was trying to make her feel at ease with him. If anything it was doing the exact opposite. It made her jumpy, like she was experiencing the calm before the storm. The hand still on her throat wasn't exactly helping either.

"Cari, Cari Elizabeth Ruth."

"Cari, what an abnormal name. _Car-ee._" He sounded out. Cari scowled, it wasn't like she knew her name wasn't weird.

He looked down, his bangs shadowing the rest of his face. The alarm stopped suddenly, along with any other sound. You could have heard a pin drop.

"Well Cari…" Cari glanced around fearfully; his voice was deep, dark. She waited…this was it…

His head shot up revealing a grin where the edges literally stretched up to the corners of his eyes. Pointed canines gleamed and his eyes rolled back into his head.

"_Welcome to the crew."_

She screamed.

**Well that was-er productive? I don't really know. As weird and typically ominous as this is; I reassure you there IS a storyline and thought out explanation to all…that. I didn't just spew out random crap and forge it all together. ^.^; Anyways, you know the drill.**

**R&R please! It'll make the next chapter come faster! ^.~**


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